Friday, August 20, 2010

Sleep Walking

When I was young I used to walk in my sleep; my Dad says he did the same thing (one time he even walked off the top of the house-he was living in rooms on the roof-and got a concussion from it). I never hurt myself badly while asleep but I once shattered my bedroom window (thank goodness there was a shade that kept me from being cut to ribbons). I would often wake to find myself out in the garage and not know how I had gotten there, or in some other room of the house, or on the front porch; one time I locked myself into the bathroom and couldn't wake up to remember how to work the lock. Sleep walking and talking is no fun; it is weird and spooky and makes you feel like a fool.

The thing that usually happened to me was that I would walk into a corner and get stuck there; I could never find my way out. In my sound-asleep head I would think I was feeling all four walls of a closed box and would begin to make panicky noises and my mom would come and turn me around and head me back to bed. I'm telling you, it makes you do stupid things and you catch people grinning at you over breakfast for no apparent reason.

When you talk in your sleep you think you are making perfect sense but you may be speaking pure gibberish or speaking English but not making sense. Sometimes people will sit and listen to you anyway and try to carry on a conversation; sometimes they won't. Danny is very good about playing along with me when I am 'seeing things' in my sleep; he doesn't laugh at me or ridicule me, ever, he just tells me that everything is okay or he goes over and 'pretends' to fix the problem. One time I dreamed that I had an entire nest of spiders in my hand and he calmly took my hand and brushed them all off until I was sure they were gone. He's nice that way.

Yesterday I went to visit a friend whom I consider to be my spiritual advisor. We talked and listened to each other and, I at least, came away feeling much, much better and more focused about the direction in which I wish to be heading. Upon reflection it reminded me of when I used to walk into those corners in the middle of the night. Sometimes we need someone to come and help us out of whatever 'corner' we happen to be in and get us started on the path again. Sometimes we need someone to sit and listen, even if we are talking gibberish. Sometimes we need someone to part the branches or sweep away the debris that is hiding the next step from our sight.

We really do need each other, for so many different reasons. We were not created to be alone; we need a certain amount of community to balance with our own personal contemplation. It is getting the balance right that is the tricky part.

What I am trying to do here.

Stories of life lived on the mixed grass prairie in Northwest Oklahoma, the lessons gleaned from creation and news of family and friends. There may be poems, if you're lucky. Sometimes I can be a bit preachy, not always, but if I feel it necessary.